Witch Tease

by Cindy Keen Reynders

  No doubt she cussed him with every ounce of her being because they’d been detained. He wished she wasn’t so upset, and her useless fretting served no good. Everything would be cleared up once he could talk with King Aedh.

  Too bad he hadn’t been able to convince Lizzie of that.

  She stormed around like a caged animal. With every toss of her head and every blazing look she gave him, his respect for her increased. There was something about the woman’s indomitable spirit he admired.

  For some boneheaded reason, her anger also amused him and made her seem lovelier than ever. Maybe it was the way she switched her bonny backside back and forth. Or maybe it was the way her breasts jutted out at just the right angle for him to see her nipples protruding beneath her tunic. Either way, he found himself spellbound.

  Without warning, she whirled around to glare at him. “What are you staring at?”

  “You.” He couldn’t help but grin, she was such a sight. “You’re goin’ to wear yourself out, lass.”

  “I’m worried. Aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “This will all be over soon. Gilgam promised that once King Aedh’s hunting party returns, he’ll send word we’d like an audience.”

  “And when will that be?” Lizzie’s brows arched.

  “Maybe tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day.”

  “That’s too long!” She stomped her foot. “In the meantime, we’re cooped up in this ridiculous tree prison while my coven and their brooms are stuck with those creepy banshees. And my poor broom, Wren. I’m certain she’s scared out of her wits.”

  “Remember we’re on Faery time. We can be in the Land of the Fae for days on end, while only a few minutes pass back in the Earthly Realm.”

  “I don’t care if it’s minutes or hours. I still don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to like it, just deal with it.” He inhaled deeply. “Meanwhile, enjoy the tree bark’s fragrance. The Faeries claim it clears up sinus congestion and calms the nerves.”

  “I’m far from calm. In fact, I’m going crazy in here.” Lizzie ran a hand through the tangled black curls. “What is this place, anyway? Whoever heard of a prison in a hollowed-out tree?”

  “’Tis no ordinary tree, that’s for sure. The Faeries in these parts of Gorias call them lus deathach thalmhainn. The leaves have healing properties. They can be eaten, steeped in tea or dried and smoked. The timber has magical strength and Faeries build their homes from it. They make paper, clothing, and any number of items from the branches. Across the entire Land of the Fae, Doros Wood is famous for them.”

  “Doros Wood?”

  “’Tis the name of this village. The colossal trees grow as thick as weeds in this kingdom, and legends claim the branches reach to the heavens. I’ve barely named all the practical uses the Faeries use the trees for.”

  “Like hollowing them out and making them into prison cells?”

  “Aye,” Kincaid said, chuckling. “I forgot to mention that.”

  “I’m curious about something else. Why don’t the Faeries around here have wings? All of my magical research books depict them that way.”

  “Take a closer look at the guards. You’ll see them.”

  Lizzie leaned toward the barred window and narrowed her gaze. “They’re still outside guarding this place like rabid watchdogs. And I don’t think they’ve moved an inch. But I still don’t see any wings.”

  “Study the area behind their backs.”

  She watched them for a few more minutes, her gaze steady. Slowly, the filmy image of wings appeared. “Ah, ha! Now I see them. It’s incredible! They resemble gossamer dragonfly wings.”

  She leaned against the bark wall. “Uh, oh. Frick and Frack noticed me staring. And they don’t look too happy about it.”

  “I’m sure those aren’t their names.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I made a joke, all right? Since you insist there’s nothing to worry about, you should be glad I’m developing a better attitude.”

  “Well now, my bum’s out the window, ain’t it lass?” He balanced on an elbow and punched the pillow. Then he lay back down. “At last you’ve a mind to listen to me.”

  “Holy witch’s creed, you’re a pain in my patootie,” Lizzie grumbled.

  “Glad to oblige.”

  With a snort, she resumed pacing.

  Kincaid clicked his tongue. Poor lass, she truly would make herself barmy in the head before all of this was over. Yes, it was an inconvenience the Faeries had pegged them for enemies, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Lizzie needn’t make herself sick with worry.

  But would she listen to him? Hell no.

  He rolled over and faced the bark wall. Now her tempting curves wouldn’t distract him. Amazing how she’d rollicked in bed with him such a short time ago, and now she’d turned cold as winter frost.

  It’s for the best, he thought.

  “Sons of Lugus,” he muttered. Hunger pangs stabbed his gut, causing it to growl. He winced, thinking he would give anything for a fat, juicy steak. Since Faeries only ate in the early morning and at sunset, he knew their jailors wouldn’t bring a meal for hours.

  He yawned, and slumber finally claimed him.

  ***

  Kincaid’s snores reached Lizzie’s ears, and she whirled around to see him stretched out, oblivious to the world. He’d thrown one arm over his face and the other dangled off the edge of the bed, knuckles brushing the dirt.

  Hellfire and brimstone. How can he sleep?

  She wanted to scream at the infuriating man to wake up. How could he take this confinement in stride, like it didn’t bother him?

  The barren cell contained no other furniture besides the bed, and a portioned area held a toilet and a sink. There wasn’t anywhere she could rest.

  Common sense claimed her thoughts, and she stopped bristling. So what if he got a little shut-eye? That way when they resumed their journey, he’d be fully rested and at the top of his game.

  She glanced out the barred window, looking past the Faery guards to where cobbled streets wound their way through a village. Simple wood and stone huts with pitched, red slate roofs lined the curbs. The hilly neighborhood had been tiered to accommodate the slope. Grassy ledges rose higher and higher, like a tier cake.

  Doros Wood bustled with activity as the Faeries went about their daily business. Women in elegant dresses pushed babies in frilly carriages or held the hands of toddlers as they walked up and down the main thoroughfare.

  Chatting with one another, they ducked inside brightly painted shops. When they exited, most of them held tightly wrapped bundles, baskets of fruit, or bolts of colorful cloth.

  Older boys and girls darted around the streets and alleyways, calling out to one another excitedly. Barking dogs nipped at their heels. Old men with long, grizzled beards sat in rocking chairs on boardwalks, talking with each other and smoking strangely-shaped pipes.

  Some appeared to be playing checkers, though the boards looked unusual. Several middle-aged men in sober gray robes exited a tall, clapboard structure. They visited with each other, gesturing with their hands as they walked toward a building that reminded her of an old-fashioned courthouse featuring a silver bell at the top of a tower.

  Were they judges who determined what fate outsiders would face? Lizzie shivered. The idea made her uneasy. Surely Kincaid was right, and King Aedh would soon return to clear them of any wrongdoing.

  What appeared to be a meeting area held a ring of flat stones surrounded by rows of wooden benches. Beyond that, thick fir trees and rich forest foliage burst with color. Pink, blue, and yellow wildflowers bobbed in a gentle wind. The sunset fired the horizon with crimson clouds. Beneath the brilliant light, snow-dusted mountains rose into the sky.

  How strange, she thought. Doros Wood looked idyllic and welcoming, yet she and Kincaid had met with nothing but hostility. Amidst all this beauty, here they were, locked up like wild animals.

  Ironic.

  When laughter reached her ears, sh
e realized it came from the tree cell directly across from her. Two men with grimy blue-skinned faces and wart-pocked noses pressed against their window bars, gaping at her. Tufts of wiry green hair burst from their heads and their black eyes were narrowed to slits.

  Merciful ancestors, she’d been so upset at being locked in this tree prison that she hadn’t noticed them. She glared at them.

  “What’s wrong, girlie?” one of them cackled. “We ain’t never seen a girl as purty as you. You’re a feast for sore eyes.”

  When they burst with laughter again, the guards posted outside their door shouted at them to settle down.

  When large hands gripped Lizzie’s shoulders, she whirled around, noting with relief it was Kincaid.

  Wide awake now, he grabbed a blanket from the narrow bed, draped it across the window and tucked two ends of it around some jutting tree roots. It dimmed the inside of the cell, but it also gave them privacy.

  “I’ll not tolerate criminals ogling you.”

  “They think we’re criminals, too.”

  A slot at the bottom of the cell door clicked open, and a tray laden with food slid through. Beside the fare sat two small cups and a clear glass pitcher containing amber liquid.

  “Ah, supper.” Kincaid rubbed his hands together and retrieved the tray. He placed it on the bed and sat next to it. “Come and have a bite, lass.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach rumbled. She pressed her hands against her midsection, irritated.

  “Apparently you are,” he said in an amused tone. “Quit being so stubborn and have somethin’ to eat.”

  “What if it’s poisoned?”

  “Faeries wouldn’t do that. It’s not in their nature.” He patted the covers. “Sit.”

  Reluctantly, she sat on the bed. She eyed the strange rations, wondering what to try first. The fried meat? The orange fruit with lavender blotches? The crusty bread with tiny black specks? It looked appetizing, yet she still hesitated to partake.

  Kincaid made up her mind for her. He handed her a napkin containing a portion of meat and a fruit slice. “Eat,” he insisted.

  She nibbled the meat. The savory flavors melted in her mouth, and it had just the right amount of spice.

  “Delicious,” she said. “What was it?”

  “A frog’s leg.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Blech!”

  “What’s wrong? It tastes like chicken.”

  “But it’s not.” She picked up a piece of the unusual fruit, popped it in her mouth and munched on its tangy sweetness.

  Kincaid downed another piece of the meat, then licked his fingers. “Frog legs are a delicacy in this realm. Besides, don’t witches use them in spells and such? Double, double, toil and trouble, aye?”

  “I’ve turned too many awful people into toads over the centuries. I certainly don’t like the idea of eating them in case, well, in case I knew them once.” She giggled.

  He lifted a brow. “You’ve always had a nasty temper.”

  “Those weren’t frivolous spells,” she insisted. “I only turn really bad people into toads. And it’s only temporary, until they learn their lesson.”

  “Mother of Scotland, let’s pray I don’t offend you then. Otherwise I’ll be eatin’ gadflies and saying ribbit, ribbit…”

  They both laughed.

  Kincaid poured two drinks and handed her one. “Faery ale is astonishing.”

  Lizzie raised her mug and sipped the cool, dark brew. As it rolled down her throat, bursting with flavor, she nodded. “Tasty.”

  “Aye, that it is.”

  She finished her drink, then reached for the pitcher and poured more.

  “Go easy on that, lass. ’Tis potent,” Kincaid warned.

  “Worrywart.” As she drank more, it warmed her insides and made her extremities tingle. A lightheaded sensation swirled through her and her worries faded. She poured herself another mug, noting Kincaid’s amused stare.

  “What?” She hiccoughed and guzzled more.

  “You’ve had enough to give yourself a serious headache come mornin’.”

  “I don’t care.” She hiccoughed again. “If it helps me relax until we can get out of this pit, then so be it.”

  “I hope you don’t regret it, lass.” He poured himself more ale and drank.

  “Whatever.” She sat back and watched Kincaid through a pleasant haze as he polished off the rest of the food. His rugged, handsome features seemed more pleasant than ever. Observing his sensuous mouth, she recalled the times he’d used it to cover her with warm, moist kisses. As he placed a piece of fruit between his teeth, then licked his fingers, she recalled how he’d used his tongue to give her pleasure.

  A shiver slid up her spine. Great Goddess, the man had a talent for making love. How she longed for his touch. How she wished she could be with him again. Over and over. For the rest of her life.

  As if he knew where her mind had drifted, Kincaid set aside the tray and scooted over next to her. “You know we shouldn’t be doin’ this, aye?”

  “Aye,” she answered with another giggle.

  Gathering her in his strong embrace, he kissed her, his lips hot and insistent. He rubbed hands up and down her sides, stopping to allow his thumbs to press against her aching nipples. His tongue slipped inside of her mouth, teasing her with intimate possibilities.

  When he’d finished exploring the moist cavern of her mouth, he pulled back and said, “Are you sure you want to be with me again, Lizzie girl?”

  Skin sizzling with his every touch, she reluctantly admitted, “It would be wrong.”

  “Love between a man and a woman is never wrong,” he whispered against her lips.

  Indeed, how could it be? Especially when she ached this badly to be with him.

  Fingers tingling, she lowered her hand toward the crotch of his pants and gently rubbed his engorged manhood. Excitement rose within her, and her breath came in small gasps when she felt how much he wanted her.

  “By Lugus, I want you,” he said through clenched teeth, breath rasping in his throat.

  Lizzie basked in this golden moment. What glorious temptation he offered. He almost had her convinced to throw all caution to the wind. Abruptly, a sharp voice in her mind began to urge caution.

  What are you thinking? Kincaid is forbidden fruit. He used you centuries ago, and he used you back on his ship. Now he wants to use you again. Have you no shame?

  At that sobering thought, a sharp lance pierced her heart. Anger replaced the woozy warmth of contentment. I’m not that gullible. She pushed against his chest and wriggled free of his embrace. Head spinning, she rose and backed unsteadily into the bark wall.

  “What the hell, woman?” Eyes narrowed to slits, Kincaid skewered her with an angry gaze.

  “I’m no fool, Kincaid McAllister. I must never let down my guard with you.”

  She hiccoughed.

  He leaned back on his elbows and grinned. “Thought you were rarin’ to go.”

  The reminder that she’d nearly given herself to this egotistical man again sparked a torrent of inner criticism. She simply couldn’t allow Kincaid the ability to rip her heart in shreds a second time. It had taken far too long to put her world back together.

  “Never touch me like that again.”

  “You’re serious?”

  She nodded. “I won’t allow it.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “We’ll see, lass. We’ll see.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The lass is teasing me as punishment.

  Blood boiling, Kincaid crammed the dishes on the empty food tray, then walked over and shoved it through the door slot. He stretched out on the narrow bed, rolled over and faced the bark wall.

  You’re letting her get to you.

  No matter how much Lizzie frayed his nerves, it accomplished nothing to lose control. He needed to maintain his composure. He didn’t need Lizzie spreading rumors about him. If people heard he was impatient and hot-headed, he could lose potential clients.


  Recalling the lean years before he’d built up his business, a bad taste filled his mouth. Aye, ’twas best he curb his irritation.

  This nonsense with the Faeries had slowed him down a bit, but it wouldn’t be long now and he would dispense with Lizzie’s banshee swarm.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, noting she’d wrapped herself in a spare blanket and sat on the ground, leaning against a wall. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved silently. No doubt she offered prayers to her Goddess, hoping to soon be rid of him and her banshee problem.

  With nothing else to do but try and sleep, he managed to drift off. Lizzie consumed his dreams. He recalled the first time they met. Both had gone to the marketplace in their highland village, and both had reached for the same thing at the same time—a hunting knife.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I found this first,” she’d told him. Her dark, mysterious eyes blazed and her hand trembled beneath his touch.

  “I believe I saw it before you, lass,” he’d insisted. “I just didn’t get to it in time.”

  “An unfortunate circumstance.” Color rose in her cheeks, but she refused to remove her hand from the handle. “There are other knives you could purchase.”

  “How strange that a fetching lass such as yourself isn’t shopping for hair trinkets or ear bobs.”

  She arched one brow. “You assume I even care about such things?”

  “No, I merely reckoned you’d want to enhance your loveliness with jewelry, not sharp objects.”

  “Sharp objects protect me from thoughtless rogues.” She tossed back her dark ringlets and laughed.

  “How’s that?”

  “If they bother me, they might find themselves missing certain tender body parts.” She held up the knife and made a slashing motion.

  Amused, he’d decided that day not to seek a new knife. Instead, he walked away from the encounter with a consuming desire for the bonny witch and they began seeing each other on a regular basis.

  Her courage and daring nature had drawn him like a warm fire on a cold night. For months, he went about his life like a man trapped in a fog. He’d been so captivated by her he’d nearly impoverished himself by refusing to take on Spirit Wulver jobs. As a result, his bills piled up. He feared if he went back to work and left her, she’d find someone else.